Deceased

Posts / 108

Age / 13

Occupation / District Three

Points /

Offline

Nico / Central / He

Rep: 11 pts

Mico closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking down at his hand which he had cradled against his chest, he didn't have to be a genius to know that his wrist was more than likely broken. He pressed his body closer to the wall and whimpered as he felt pain shoot through his entire arm, he clenched his teeth to stop himself from screaming in agony. He had to be quiet until the bell rang and he could go back to class where he was safe, recesses were truly his biggest nightmare because it was then when the other kids would play their favorite game: “Bait the ham” and he was always the ham. A nickname he had earned simply because of his father being the butcher, and because one time Modem Gates had went to his father's shop with his parents and thought his dad pronounced ham funny. The next morning he had walked into school to find the words “Jamón” (which was ham on his father's native language) welded into his locker..

The whole thing had not made sense to him until he had been pushed into the same locker and he heard one of other boys call him a “cerdo” the word for swine. Had he not been terrified he might have admired the creativity and the research the kids had put into the taunting, but he truthfully could not think about anything except the pain on his forehead and the fact that he really did not want to scream in front of them. Not again. Last time he had done that he had been humiliated being pushed harder, he was given a reason to scream. He didn't want to have a reason to scream again.

Pa had said to fight back, he had tried to convince Mico to take some self-defense lessons, he had tried teaching him how to punch, but the one time he had tried to follow what Pa had said... well, he was hiding inside a classroom, behind a desk with an injured wrist trying to avoid being found. He truthfully could not understand why he was the one who the other kids had chosen to pick on, it made no sense, he was not a threat to them. Even Omega Flash had said so when he had accidentally knocked his science project off the table shattering it, he had failed the project and since he had not thrown Omega under the bus due to fear of repercussions he had been sent home with a letter regarding his carelessness.

Mijo, no puedes dejarte, tú eres igual que todos ellos, (Son, you can't let them do this to you, you're the same as them) his father's words echoed inside his head, and he wished that he was as strong as him. That he would be able to stand up to the other kids and make them realize that he was not one to be messed with, but he was not strong, he was weak and scared. He didn't want to cry, last time he had cried in front of them they had mocked him for showing emotions they considered weak, they had commented on how his eyes looked even smaller when he cried, how odd it was that he had dark skin, small eyes, and thick curled hair. He was so weird looking, a mutt Tommy Shutter had said, apparently everyone had thought that it was really funny because the comment had received a lot of laughs before he had been pushed to the ground and forced to stay there like a good mutt.

Mico knew he was different, he was aware that he wasn't as smart as the other kids, that he didn't have the money, resources and education that they did, so he understood why the others thought he was inferior for that. It was almost expected when the other's parents were trying to cure cancer, or inventing a machine that could make cleaning the house easier. What he hated the most though was when they mocked him for the color of his skin, for the shape of his eyes, or his appearance in general because it was not something that he could change, he had started hating the fact that he was so dark, so short, that his eyes were not shaped the same as the others. He resented his father for not choosing to marry someone of his own racial background, because at least that way he would look more like Genio Hernandez who was accepted, but with his genetic pool he was a combination between Genio and Toshiba Trang which apparently was completely revolting.

The noise outside the door made him cover his mouth with his good hand and press himself against the wall even more, he could feel the wetness on his cheeks already, which he tried to clean with his sleeve. The movement sent another jolt of pain through his small frame and he cringed trying to turn his scream into a mere whimper. The door opened and there he saw a small girl with big glasses and dark braids, her eyes widened when she saw him. It was April Transmit, another victim of the same bullies that tortured him, she was a lot smarter than him, her father was an aspiring inventor though he had not created anything worth the respect of the district. She was the closest thing Mico had to a friend, she had always looked on with pity when he was being harassed and while she had never stood up for him or said much to him in the first place, but for Mico it had always been a speck of light in the darkness to know someone out there was at least not against him. If anyone was to find him April was the only good option.

”I'm sorry,” she said, it was the most she had said to him despite the fact they shared most of their classes together, and her words were confusing to Mico. Why was she sorry? She had not done anyt-... before the thought could even conclude she was turning around placing her hands at either side of her mouth to be louder, ”He's here! I found him!” as the sound of steps rushing towards him Mico felt his heart drop. He knew he had no reason to feel that way but he couldn't help the sting of betrayal inside his chest, he had always hoped that because of their shared experiences April could eventually become his first friend. He thought of standing up, of trying to run but he knew it was futile because the others would catch him, he was cornered.

As the door frame was covered by shadows he watched as April looked down at her feet, he took a deep breath knowing that he was going to be in a lot more trouble for trying to fight back, and then escape. ”Well, well, well... you thought you were being clever by running, didn't you ham? You really messed up this time,” knuckles cracked and Mico closed his eyes again bracing himself for what was coming...

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Hunger: Eat and drink just once per day.Rejuvenation: Regain 10 HP every anthem if sleep has been written the night before-Tubthumping: When to 0 HP, Mico can pop back to life with 60 more HP

Deceased

Posts / 108

Age / 13

Occupation / District Three

Points /

Offline

Nico / Central / He

Rep: 11 pts

A black-eye. A few bruised ribs. A split lip. A broken wrist. Truth be told Mico had gotten lucky the bell had rang when it did, otherwise his injuries would have been far worst than what he already had. The strap from his backpack had broken when it had been pulled as he left school later that day, he would need a new one even though he knew his father would struggle to pay for it. It was the third one that month, it was getting ridiculous. Pa never said anything, it was almost as of though he was used to having a son who was worthless, Mico could see the pity on his eyes and he felt horrified at the thought that his father viewed him as nothing more than a burden. Perhaps if he wasn't alive then Pa would be better off. He would have trouble communicating with customers but he would manage, he had always done so.

Mico stood outside the door of the butcher shop for a few minutes trying to gather the courage to step inside, he knew the place would be packed with customers wanting to get meat for dinner before their children got back from school. Everyone was going to stare at him, which he hated, he knew that the customers heard about how weird he was from their children, he had heard the whispers before. But at least unlike their offspring they didn't expect him to apologize for the language he spoke, or the color of his skin. That day he had to apologize for having smaller eyes than the others.

A lot of days Mico woke up wishing he had the same pale skin color than his other classmates, that he would not stand out as much as he did. Once he had even wished Pa knew the same language everyone else spoke so that they wouldn't stand out as much. But he had regretted that thought immediately, it was not Pa's fault and he really did try, he just didn't have the education to really learn. But he did try. He could hear him from outside already, trying to communicate the prize to someone who was probably too ignorant to have patience at his father despite the fact that he was clearly doing his best to get the idea through. The prizes were written down on a sign Mico had made, but people were too lazy to read. Others thought because of Pa's language barrier they would be able to trick him into giving them things for cheaper, they thought he was dumber than them because of that simple difference. People tended to assume spanish speakers were stupid, even though Mico was convinced most of them would struggle learning another language to start with.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As soon as he walked through the door nursing his wrist Pa would know that it had happened again, that he had not defended himself. This time he had tried, but Pa would never know that because Mico didn't want him to know despite his best lessons Pa's son was unable to defend himself from the bullies. He was always going to be second best, destined to continue apologizing for things that he had absolutely never chosen to be. He had never decided his skin color, the shape of his eyes, the way his father communicated, they were all things he had no control over and that the kids at school seemed to think he was the blame. Something worth terrorizing him for, and for him to apologize about.

Maybe he'll be too busy to notice you come in, he thought to himself trying to pep talk himself into stepping in the butcher's shop. He had hidden a small jar of concealer that helped him conceal the bruises from Pa, it had cost him all the coins Pa had given him for three days straight for him to buy himself lunch, finding the right tone for his skin color had been particularly hard, but it had been worth it. Not eating, negotiating, it had all been well worth it. Or it would be if he managed to sneak past Pa's vigilant gaze.

With another deep breath he opened the door and headed inside...

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Hunger: Eat and drink just once per day.Rejuvenation: Regain 10 HP every anthem if sleep has been written the night before-Tubthumping: When to 0 HP, Mico can pop back to life with 60 more HP

Deceased

Posts / 108

Age / 13

Occupation / District Three

Points /

Offline

Nico / Central / He

Rep: 11 pts

Mico sat on his bed looking at the ground, his father was in front of him pacing. He had finished yelling seconds before, not at him but in frustration about the situation; he wanted to go back to the school to talk to them about what was happening to his son, he wanted Mico to translate for the teachers this time, to make them understand how the situation could not continue to escalate. Bullying was unacceptable in a place where kids were supposed to feel safe, this was too far, it was not about the broken schoolbag, or the black eye, or the fact he had a sprained wrist. It was not about the money which made it so they couldn't afford a new schoolbag or proper care for his wrist. It was about the dignity of the situation. The fact the school was not getting involved when Mico was getting beat, the fact they turned a blind eye because his son was different, because they thought his father could not do anything about it.

"Perdón..." (Sorry) he muttered under his breath, his father stopped pacing and turned to look at Mico. His expression had softened, he sighed heavily and sat down next to him, the bed protesting at the added weight, the old rotting wood warning them about the fact it would break any second."Mijo, no es tú culpa. No hiciste nada, entiendes? Pero no quiero que te sigan tratando así," (Son, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, understood? But I don't want them to continue treating you like this) he sighed heavily before placing a hand on Mico's back giving him a little squeeze right where the neck began, he placed a kiss on MIco's head, "No quiero perderte a ti también..." (I don't want to lose you too...)

The words were difficult to hear his father say, he had always been so strong in Mico's eyes. He had never seen his dad be sad or vulnerable whatsoever. But he felt guilty, because he knew it all stemmed from the fact that he couldn't defend himself, that he was worthless when it came to life. His father would have been better off having someone else as a son, someone who actually could stand up to the bullies, who wasn't too scared, or too vulnerable. And he wanted to be that person that he knew his father wanted him to be, but he didn't know how.

"Todo va a estar bien chaparro, vas a ver," (Everything will be alright little one, you'll see) his father said and placed another kiss on the top of his head. He stood back up and headed to the door, "Necesito regresar a trabajar, deje dinero en la mesa, ve a comprar lo que tú quieras para comer, te lo invito," (I need to go back to work, I left money on the table, go buy whatever you want to eat, my treat) he was smiling and Mico nodded unable to smile back. He knew his father was trying to make him feel better but unbeknownst to him he could read right through him, he needed to go back to work because he couldn't afford taking the day off with all the things he would have to pay for after this incident.

His father left the room and Mico stayed there completely still and staring at the wall. Would he ever be able to be stronger? Was there anything he could even do? He felt the hot stinging of tears against his eyes and he buried his face on the pillow. He couldn't cry, he couldn't be weak, not anymore.

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Hunger: Eat and drink just once per day.Rejuvenation: Regain 10 HP every anthem if sleep has been written the night before-Tubthumping: When to 0 HP, Mico can pop back to life with 60 more HP

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